nirix5: (300 last night was great)
Finished my paper at approximately 5:57 this morning.

...

That's the first all nighter I've pulled since 2001, when I had two minutes' worth of lunchbox animation cels to do, back when I was at Collins.

Wow.

If you'd like to see the first draft, written in letter form while mildly hysterical, click here. )

Cleans up pretty )

.
nirix5: (me!)
You pull the crap out of your pocket and sift through it- the four singles, a five, and your last twenty that has to last you for two weeks, the maxed out credit card, the Borders card that is really only temptation for mind candy, since when the hell do you have the money for something as frivolous as books when you can read them in the store for free? You just can't take them home. Just as well, since there aren't any more free parking spaces on the shelves. Someone's random phone number on canary colored paper slips through your fingers and you wonder who the hell it belongs to. The list of songs for fun and the list of songs for profit, bits of thoughts you can't remember scribbled over everything and that, my friend, is what you're looking for.

Now that you've found it, it aggrevates the hell out of you because you can't figure out what it says. Thinking back, you remember writing it, on the workbench in your friend's garage while he was rebuilding his computer. Words so profound you wanted to scorch them into your skin with the soldering iron. Now you try to recall them, to capture the shadows of their footprints. It's hard. Keep going, you tell yourself.

The pen on the paper isn't working. It's one thing to drag thoughts screaming back into your head; it's something else entirely to keep them there long enough to move your hand to reshape them. Move to the computer. It's quicker, the tap, tap, tap of fingertips on the keys only slightly annoying, and the speed more than makes up for it.

"Clara, what are you doing?"

"Career exploration homework, mother."

"Oh." Awkward [moment in time] be careful trying to bridge these distances. "What are you researching?"

"Espionage, mother."

Condensing condescending drippy smile. "You should stick with writing, honey. You blush too easily to be a spy."

She shuts the door on you and your easily triggered blushes. You feel your face and sure enough, it's hot. Damn her to hell for being right.

You don't want to be a writer, not really. It's just easy. Syllables and line breaks shift through your mind all day, twine around your conscious until there are no images in your head, only words. Brilliance can be damning in and of itself, you tell yourself. Good at something once, and no one leaves the door open to anything else. You wonder if Mozart tore his hair out while sitting at his piano, gouged his ears out and made himself deaf. (Was he the one who was deaf?) You wonder if you should blind yourself, as if not seeing the letters might dull your senses enough to be able to deal with them. If feeling stories with your hands would be less heart pounding than being visually overwhelmed by them.

Start typing. Just write. If you get it out, the pressure might not be so unbearable.

He pulled out M----’s letter and read it for the millionth time. He had kept it after all these years. It was beyond destroyed now, but even though the writing was intelligible he knew it off by heart, so he had no trouble reading it. He guessed that almost sixty years had passed since she had written the note to him. And in all that time, all those seasons, days, hours and seconds, he had heard not one word from her.

Delete it. Try again, turn the music up louder this time...

“Sleeping with your supervisor again?” she asked acidly.

S---- shrugged off C-----'s glare. She had known that C----- would notice the scarf she was wearing the moment she had wrapped the thin, soft fabric around her throat. There was only one time she ever wore that particular scarf. Certain mornings when she took longer than usual in getting home from work; certain mornings when she had illicit hickeys to cover up. Once upon a time she had toyed with the idea of buying turtlenecks and pancake makeup, but she had passed out of that high school-esque phase. Turtlenecks made you look as guilty as scarves did, and makeup couldn't withstand the hot spray of the shower. Or -----'s kisses.


For god's sake. Change the fucking song. What are you trying to write, anyway? Try espionage. Stick a gun in your jacket pocket and feel its weight against your ribcage. Then work from there. Everyone knows that you have to live things to write them.

You write. Fingers dance over the keyboard, spinning a personal fantasy that runs along the lines of a bad movie, shots fired from alleys, avenging angels, leather pants and a fast car. This is your brain. This is your brain writing. This is your brain writing to J-pop music.

Watch out, kids.

.
nirix5: (grissom and the brain)
MYSTERIOUS WALL MARKINGS BAFFLE HOMEOWNER

Mercer County, NJ - In a bizzare incident in the tiny hamlet of West Windsor, a homeowner discovered peculiar markings on a wall when he began rennovations on a bedroom. "I've never seen anything like this before," said Kevin Hanly, of 3 Darvel Drive, adding that the markings seemed to be indelible. "Nothing I've used has been able to remove them."

In an added twist, what appeared to be scorch marks, along with a large hole in the wall, were uncovered when a tie-dye wall hanging was removed.

The bedroom is occupied mainly by Hanly's son, James, 21, a Rutgers University student. Reached at the college for comment, James claimed he could speak only Chinese. Via an interpreter, the Scarlet Knight stated, "I know nothing." Upon further questioning, James said that the markings could have been placed there by anyone at any time, since it was common practice in the household to roust him from his bed when honorable family or friends visited. "It is probably of supernatural origin," he opined. "It has always been the oddest room in the house."

The only clue discovered was a tiny signature, "Hallen".

Hanly told reporters that he has a niece, Heather Allen, and that she had resided with the family for some months beginning in November, 2001. "But it was impossible to watch the hoyden every minute," he said. "Who knows what she was up to?"

Tracked down in the wilds of Central New York, Ms. Allen, 23, said in a phone interview that she had no idea of how the markings had been placed on the wall and, besides, her last name was Allen. "I ain't no Hallen-back Girl, I ain't no Hallen-back Girl," she chanted.

Heather's mother, Barbara, commented that her "darling daughter" would never do such a thing. But she hoped that the perpetrator would soon be apprehended. In the meantime, she was sending her brother-in-law a chicken. "With this," she stated, "Kevin can make a voodoo chicken stick that will surely lead him straight to the culprit."

Stymied police called in archaeologists and religious experts from near-by Princeton University but scholars were unable to shed any light on the origins of the markings.

"It remains a mystery," Hanly said.


_____________________________________


Perhaps It will edit the above article, adding details on the appearance of the markings, or any other pertinent information. Also, will It do a spell check? Then print it out on a real printer so that we may send it off to Uncle Kevin. I already have the chicken.


Love,

Mom
nirix5: (Default)
Basic premise: Amanda starts going to Northlands Community College. It's-- obviously-- way the hell up north, and right off the bat she notices that odd things are going down. As it turns out, it's a school that's open to almost anyone... including vampires, werewolves, banshees, and dragons, just to name a few. Its students have given it the fond nickname of Night School, since it's so far north that they only get three hours (or whatever) of daylight, and because of the nature of its students.

Amanda finds herself in with a new group of off-the-wall friends when she answers a Roommate Wanted ad in the local paper. Everyone gets into crazy adventures, personal and otherwise. Everyone's got a dark past that may or may not show up in the form of smug bastard vampires. Said smug bastard vampire may or may not have anything to do with more than one person (small world, ain't it?) And the worst thing yet- everyone's got to get their work in on time and pass their final exams.
nirix5: (Default)
One character's backstory is down. Actually, it was a fun ride, considering I started out with a vague date and a location and managed to research myself right into a storyline.

Started with: Germany, 1400

Ended with: Bohemia, circa 930

So, so totally not what I thought I would end up with. However, the story is more interesting and dynamic. I don't know if Julian's backstory will make it into the main story in its entirety, or if I'll do it as a spinoff.

Oooh, this thing is growing out of control on its own. I love when stories do that.

Everything except for the characters of Julian and Juliana is true, yo. Gotta love historical drama.

Julian's backstory )
nirix5: (Default)
The Very Secret Diary of Queen Gertrude of Denmark

Act I, Scene II

No. dead husbands: 1, v. bad
No. new husbands: 1, v. good
Successful weddings: 1, v. good I think. But am getting nasty looks so maybe not

Wedding v. lovely. New husband v. dashing, almost as good as old one, as if had traded in husband for younger, less balding model in manner of car or similar. Courtiers have been giving us dirty looks all night but they can sit and spin for all I care. Claudius feels the same way. Can just tell- we must be soulmates. Am just going to ignore nasty picking sensation in brain that may or may not be my conscience and/or memories of last husband. Of course, nasty picking sensation could also be third goblet of wine speaking up.

Later

Pssh. Hamlet making an ass of himself again. Told him to stop wearing all black and threatened to take away his Hot Topic charge card, but don't think he will listen. Stupid git of a son insisted on being resident poutypants and moping about. Told him that his Dad was dead, might as well move on with it as we all have. He said something about dead king "being my only friend" and sniffled. Told him that Denmark would be his friend, which would leave him better off as a large piece of land can't go off on duels and then come back and die and leave population in turmoil.

Claudie chipped in and kindly explained the circle of life to H. He even brought out the Lion King hand puppets, but it didn't make H. any better.

[...Okay. This is ridiculous and I don't have the time or the energy to pull it off. I'm going to bed.]
nirix5: (Default)
Nicked from [livejournal.com profile] misscam

How to play:
1. Pick a fandom offered: CSI, LotR, Harry Potter, Gossip Girl, Star Wars, Dark Angel (or if you and I have a fandom in common, whatever. Kate, I'm talking to you about Undead and Unwed.)
2. Choose a pairing or characters, and one more specific if you'd like. Examples: Grissom and Sara plant a tree or Max and Logan go on a picnic.
I am willing to do slash, and any genre within reason. Crossovers are also cool.
3. You can also pick a Wild Card- choose a fandom and I will write a drabble that combines it with one of your interests listed on your LJ profile.
I will bust out a drabble somewhere between 75-150 words for you.

Consider it an Easter egg.
nirix5: (Default)
"What do you want to talk about masks for? It's such a tired cliché."

"You're one of the only people I know who never lets their mask slip."

"Should I? Should I want the world to see all of the things I hold inside? When my soul stretches unbearably to break through an old shell, should the world see the tears I cry? Why on earth would I want that?" She adds a little more red to her lower lip.

"You'll only hurt yourself, in the end."

"Will I?"

"Yes. You'll regret lying to the world, to yourself."

She laughs and shrugs. "I already paid the price, darlingest. And what I got for it was tailored perfectly for me. I was sewn into this."

"Custom made," comes a petulant echo, the owner of the voice not understanding.

"Yes," she says, turning and smiling a brilliant, perfect smile. "And isn't it beautiful?"
nirix5: (Default)
I would just about sell my soul for some food-food right now. Food-food being something that doesn't involve copious amounts of preservatives. Couscous, for instance. Or salade Nicoise.

However, all the forseeable future holds is french fries and cocoa, as usual, and maybe leftover ramen if I'm lucky and no one has eaten it yet.

In other news, I'm killing real people in fanfiction. Which is really creepy to write, I've discovered.

.....

You know, it's extremely odd when you're walking down the hallway and suddenly the thought hits you that you're going to be a cop one day.

.....

I got an A+ on my Sociology test. Yay?
nirix5: (Default)
Crossposted to the Grissom and Sara Livejournal Community

Tarot
Grissom/Sara. What does Grissom see in the cards for his future with Sara? AU; Post-Butterflied. One-shot.

Rated R for violent imagery and dark themes.
Suggested Soundtrack: “Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine” by The Killers.

Tarot )

Author's Note: I took some liberties with the timeline. Playing with Fire takes place after Butterflied, but in a vague sort of way. Spoilers for both episodes.
nirix5: (Default)
Pairing: Cath/Sara
Title: Let's Just Get Naked
(or: If It Ain't Love, It Comes Damn Close)
Rating: R, just to be safe. Language, sexual talk and quasi-situations.
Author's Note: This is a songfic, set to "Let's Just Get Naked" by Joan Osbourne. If you have any way to download that and listen to it while you read this, it gives the story a little bit more mood. For me, it's the CathandSara theme song :)
Author's Note Part 2: This is an AU. Also, Lindsay has once again been sent to the interdimensional holding tank.
Author's Note Again: This will be posted on ff.n and moved to my Bound Butterfly archive as soon as I'm back at school.

Review? Please?

Let's Just Get Naked )
nirix5: (Default)
I added an epilogue to Apocalyptic.

So you should all go read it, and stuff.
nirix5: (Default)
I'm cleaning out some random crap from my journal, for what it's worth. All of the Apocalyptic entries are going to be moved to Bound Butterfly, my writing journal over on GreatestJournal. I'm also going to start a new writing journal on LJ in a little while. Cause organization is great.

Apocalyptic can also be found (along with all of my other junk) on my FanFiction.net user profile.

Yeah, destroying Las Vegas was a lot of fun.

I LOVE MY NEW ICON!!!!!!!!!
THANK YOU BREE!!!!!!

[EDIT: Also added the WSN drabbles and Chrysanthemum to Bound Butterfly. Am going to add Smite in two minutes or so. Yay go me.]

Random.

Dec. 9th, 2004 02:57 pm
nirix5: (Default)
Aha ha ha. If anyone wants to read the NC-17 lead up to this, let me know. Otherwise it's locked. Muah ha ha.

I caught Warrick and Nick and Sara underneath the mistletoe... )
nirix5: (Default)
W/S/N Drabble
Suggested soundtrack: "Secret" by Maroon 5

A present for Bree! )

First in a series?
nirix5: (Default)
Kudos to anyone who gets this.

seashore butterfly )
nirix5: (Default)
Title: Chrysanthemum
Author: Feather
Rating: PG
Keywords: Catherine/Sara, Grissom POV.
Spoilers: None really.
Disclaimer: They’re not mine. And if they were, I’m not so sure I’d share. So good thing, huh? Fluff, angst, character death.
Challenge: Meryl Streep Movie Titles
Word Count: 1441.
Author’s Note: I didn’t feel like dealing with Lindsey in this. She’s been sent to the inter-dimensional holding tank for this fic.


Chrysanthemum )

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